


A Friendly Game of Baseball

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, and playin some b-ball, baseball that is, but they're not tagged, cause I'm lazy, just some bros bein idiots, there are more characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Race is pretty good at hitting baseballs.He is not, however, too good at letting go of the bat in time.





	A Friendly Game of Baseball

“C’mon, Jack!” Race called, hefting the stick that served as his bat over his shoulder. “We don’t got all day!”

“Shut up, Racer!” Jack retorted, but his tone was light. He looked at Albert, who knelt behind Race. “You ready for my perfect pitch to go right to you, Al?”

“You know it, Jack.” Albert grinned when Race rolled his eyes. “Get ready for your three strikes, Race.”

“You’re never gonna touch that ball,” Race said. He hefted his bat again. “Let’s go, Jack.”

“Alright, here it comes.” Jack wound up and threw the ball underhanded, and, just like he said, it flew straight to Albert. He caught it and flashed a smile at Race, who flipped him off and turned back around.

“Strike one!” Albert called. Romeo, Les, and Mush, who stood on the old newspapers the newsies were using as bases, all groaned.

“We’re never forgivin’ you if you strike out, you know!” Mush said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Race looked at Jack. “Throw it again! I’m gonna hit it so far you’ll never find it.”

“Whatever.” Jack waved to Albert, who threw the ball back to him. He wound up, tossed the ball-

_Crack!_

Race hit the ball this time, swinging so hard that he spun all the way around. 

On the bright side, the ball flew so far it went straight over Davey, who was playing outfield near the other end of the street.

Unfortunately, Race was still holding the bat, and the end of it slammed into an unsuspecting Albert’s temple.

Albert cried out and crumpled to the ground. Race, game immediately forgotten, dropped his bat and knelt beside him.

“Fuck, Al!” There were footsteps, and then Jack was there, too.

“Shit, Race,” he said, putting a hand on Albert’s shoulder and shaking him gently. Albert didn’t move. “I think you knocked ‘im out.”

Specs appeared then, a bundle of white cotton in his hands. He had been watching the game and disappeared into the lodging house when Albert got hurt. “I got some bandages, just to clean it a little. He’s bleedin’ bad.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Race didn’t realize he had even spoken out loud until the others looked at him. “I swung too hard.”

“It’s okay, Race.” Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “It takes more than a stick to the head to get through Albert’s thick skull. See, look. He’s waking up.”

Sure enough, Albert was stirring. His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned. “Did my head explode?”

“Nah, but Race sure tried his best to kill ya,” Jack said, ignoring Race’s quiet “hey!”

“I’m gonna clean your head,” Specs told Albert. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“Whatever,” Albert said. He winced when Specs held the cloth to his temple. “I’ve had worse.”

“I can’t believe I hit you in the head, knock you out, and all you say is ‘I’ve had worse’.” Race shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

Albert smiled, but it was more of a grimace now. “Nah, it’s like Jack said. I got a thick skull.”

“I thought you were out when I said that,” Jack said.

“Nope. Only mostly out.”

“Fuck, Al, I’m sorry,” Race said.

“It’s okay, Race,” Albert said. He smirked. “But as hard as you hit me, you better have hit that fuckin’ ball.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


End file.
